


if we are together

by intuitionist



Series: brooklyn boys [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, 96 line is cat line, Bruno Mars the Cat, Cat Dads, Friends to Lovers, Hotpot the Cat, M/M, Mutual Pining, an elegy to all the meals with friends we're not having right now, pandemic birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intuitionist/pseuds/intuitionist
Summary: Pandemic birthdays were always going to be strange, but it doesn’t help when your best friend forgets your special day, too.Or: Five things Jihoon eats while he’s figuring out his feelings for Junhui—and one thing he doesn’t.
Relationships: Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, side soonwoo - Relationship
Series: brooklyn boys [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077344
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	if we are together

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be a little side story to [even if we don’t know everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279473), mostly because I forgot that Jihoon’s birthday takes place in the middle of the fic. It ended up being quite a bit longer than I expected, so I’m posting it as a separate story, but it will make the most sense if you read the other fic first. This is pretty self-indulgently soft, but if you’re not ready for references to the pandemic in your stories, you may wish to save it for later.

🍳

Birthdays become a little strange during your late twenties. Celebrating another trip around the sun isn’t the same when you’ve run out of fun birthday milestones. Nothing after twenty-one quite matches gaining the ability to drive, or vote, or drink. Sure, at twenty-five you can rent a car without extra charges, but whoever looked forward to that as a rite of passage? And at twenty-mumble, you might just be wondering if your life is supposed to be more than what you have—your tiny lonely apartment, your ridiculous rent, your life in a city that you’re not sure will be home forever.

Jihoon is a November baby, so he celebrated his eighteenth birthday in his college residence hall, eating pizza and cake procured by his RA. He no longer remembers most of those faces and names, but Wonwoo and Jun were both there, the other two awkward Asian kids from his hallway. It was probably Wonwoo who ended up telling Jeonghan, the sophomore who had pretty much adopted them, that Jihoon’s birthday had come and gone. Jeonghan had immediately declared that a better celebration was mandatory, and the following weekend he’d dragged all them to Flushing to eat large quantities of barbecue and to sing until their voices were hoarse in an overheated noraebang room.

So perhaps it’s not a surprise, even in this strange pandemic year, that Jeonghan remembers Jihoon’s birthday when other people forget. When Jeonghan calls before nine, Jihoon has already been awake for a couple hours, having gotten up at 6:45 to feed his persistent and adorable cat, Bruno. 

“Jihoonie!” Jeonghan warbles over a staticky connection. “Happy birthday!” In the background, a deeper voice echoes the sentiment.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jihoon says. At the other end of the couch, Bruno raises his head, perhaps annoyed by the noise. Jihoon reaches over and scratches his head affectionately. 

“You’re twenty-eight! I’m sorry we can’t have a party!”

“No one should be having parties right now,” Jihoon says flatly, aware that some of his neighbors are definitely still hosting social gatherings. “It’s not a very exciting birthday anyway. Twenty-eight, whatever.”

“There are no such things as boring birthdays. Cheol and I want to buy you breakfast. Are you dressed? We’re almost at your place.”

Jihoon realizes then that the background noises aren’t just static. They are also street sounds, and knowing Jeonghan, that means they’re probably a mere block away. He looks down at his joggers and sloppy hoodie. They aren’t the clothes that he slept in, so he deems them good enough to wear in public. “Pretty much. Meet you outside?”

“Ya. See you when you’re ready!”

When he gets outside, his two favorite hyungs are waiting on the sidewalk. Jeonghan is scrolling through his phone, while Seungcheol is trying to keep their dogs from wandering into the street. Jeonghan looks up at the sound of the door, eyes smiling above his mask. “What do you feel like? Brunch? Doughnuts?”

It’s still a little strange not to have to dodge an unwanted hug, not to have to endure an unavoidable one. It’s also a little strange to admit that maybe they weren’t as unwanted as he thought. “Dunno.”

Seungcheol shouts, “Breakfast sandwiches!” Then, “No, don’t eat that, Nico. Nico!”

“Cheol always wants breakfast sandwiches, but it’s your day, Jihoonie. We can do whatever you want.”

“Honestly, greasy sandwiches with sausage and eggs sound amazing.”

Jeonghan has a sweet tooth and probably would have preferred waffles or pancakes, but he takes birthday privileges seriously. “Why am I not surprised? Okay, if that’s what you want, but they absolutely can’t be from the bodega down the street, no matter how good you think they are.”

They search on their phones until they find a coffee shop that’s hipster enough for Jeonghan, open for takeout, and near a park with plenty of benches. The wait times are long, even for pickup, but it is Sunday morning. They confer a bit longer over the menu before setting out, letting the dogs set the pace.

Once they’ve picked up their food and found a place to sit, they talk about their weeks and Thanksgiving plans. Living a plane ride away from his family in LA, Jihoon had been clear from the start that all holiday visits were canceled. The same was true for Seungcheol. He was also from SoCal, though Jihoon had only met him in college. For Jeonghan, who grew up in Fort Lee, it had been a bit of a struggle to get his family to accept that he wouldn’t be eating with them.

“I guess they’re getting used to me disappointing them,” Jeonghan says at last, and they all know he isn’t just talking about holidays. Seungcheol strokes the back of his head reassuringly. “Ugh, let’s talk about something else. What are you doing for the rest of your birthday?”

“I’m meeting Soonyoung for lunch later, and my parents will want to talk on the phone for a bit.” Soonyoung had done his best to get Jihoon to agree to an online party, but Jihoon had found the prospect of blowing out candles on Zoom while he was alone in his apartment with Bruno just a little too grim. “Honestly, probably just lots of phone calls.”

Jeonghan and Seungcheol exchange a look. “Oh? Your trio isn’t getting together at all? You’re not seeing Wonwoo or Junnie?”

“I saw Junnie a couple days ago,” Jihoon tells them, not mentioning their little disagreement. He’s still mad at himself for how he handled the situation when he could have predicted Jun would react like that. Jun had just looked so very tired, and Jihoon had acted without thinking things through. “You know he’s super tied up with his foster kittens. Wonwoo texted me at midnight. We’ll talk later.”

Jun hasn’t texted at all.

“You and Junnie should just form a pod already,” Jeonghan says, not for the first time. “We’ll be living like this all winter, if not longer. I told him that, too, so he’s definitely thought about it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I just want my cute dongsaengs to be happy, especially on their birthdays.” In another year, Jeonghan would have ruffled his hair or poked his cheek, but he just tips his head to one side. It’s pretty much a Jeonghan order.

Seungcheol finishes the last bite of his sandwich before he adds, “So maybe do more than just think about it.”

🌯

It’s past eleven when Jihoon gets back to his apartment. His phone starts ringing as he’s taking off his jacket. It’s his parents, worried about their son being so far away on his birthday. He assures them that his friends are taking good care of him, even if no one has made him seaweed soup. 

“Be careful,” his mom tells him as they say goodbye. “We miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too,” he says. He is sitting on the couch, and Bruno had not wasted this opportunity to stretch out on his lap. Bruno is fast asleep now with his tongue sticking out a bit, the tiniest sliver of pink. Jihoon takes a picture once he has ended the call.

He obviously can’t move if Bruno is that comfortable, so he is still sitting in that same spot when Soonyoung calls twenty minutes later to figure out their lunch plans. “Woozi baby! Happy birthday, bro. I found the perfect place. Are you hungry yet? When do you want to go?”

“I just got back from hanging out with Hannie and Cheol. Maybe one thirty?”

Soonyoung’s perfect spot turns out to be a hole-in-the-wall taqueria where they make burritos the size of Jihoon’s arm. They order takeout and sit in the tiny outdoor seating area since it’s not crowded. The burrito is one of the best that Jihoon has had outside of California.

“If you can’t bring the boy to LA, you have to bring LA to him!” Soonyoung says. “Seriously, though, it’s pretty good for east coast Mexican food.”

Jihoon’s mouth is full, so he just nods. 

“Wonwoo liked it, too, when I brought one home the other day.”

That warrants a response. “Let me guess,” Jihoon says. “He still hasn’t figured out that your constant delivery of food is basically a courtship ritual.”

Soonyoung reddens. “I’m just being a good roommate!”

“Uh-huh. A good roommate who has been obsessed with Wonwoo’s arms since June.”

Soonyoung avoids answering by stuffing his mouth with chips. 

“I miss LA food, though,” Jihoon admits. He usually flies home a couple times a year to see his parents. He’s the only child, and they’re only getting older. Obviously that hasn’t been possible in 2020. 

“Tell me about it. Changkyun got Zankou Chicken a few days ago and he insisted on sending me pictures.”

“God, I don’t think I’ve had Zankou in years,” Jihoon says, remembering high school trips to Glendale just for the garlic sauce. 

His eyes meet Soonyoung’s and they say simultaneously, “In-N-Out.”

“I usually go to the one by the airport as soon as I get home.”

“Next year,” Jihoon says, feeling homesick. “For me, at least. For you? Have you gotten back to Johnny yet?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. “He’s left comments on my streams a couple times. Good thing no one seems to have really noticed.”

“He did say you had the entire month to get back to him.” Jihoon shrugs. “He’s really a decent guy. A bit slick, but that’s why he’s good at what he does.” A pause. “Do you know what you want to do?”

“I never wanted to be an influencer,” Soonyoung says, moodily crunching on more tortilla chips. “I just wanted to dance and perform. It just—it just seems stupid not to jump on this chance, if it’s real. And it seems to be real. Most people don’t get offers like this.”

“It’s not stupid to turn it down if you want something else.”

“Chan thinks I’m crazy for thinking about saying no.”

“It’s not Chan’s life,” Jihoon points out. Then he pokes Soonyoung under the table with the tip of his sneaker. “But is this about Wonwoo?”

“No. Maybe. I know I shouldn’t make this decision about him when we’re not anything—”

“You’re roommates. And friends.”

“—but every time I think of leaving, I just don’t want to leave. And Wonwoo’s part of that, but so are you, and Chan, and everyone else here. Even if I miss Zankou and In-N-Out and my parents and our high school friends.”

Jihoon has been hearing about Soonyoung’s crush on Wonwoo for months. According to Soonyoung, it all started this summer, when he finally admitted to himself—and soon after, to Jihoon—that he thought Wonwoo was attractive. (Jihoon’s unhelpful reaction to that epiphany had been, “You’re only now noticing this?”) Still, Jihoon is certain that it goes back further. The two have been roommates for a year and a half now. Jihoon wouldn’t have even suggested that Soonyoung move into Wonwoo’s extra room if he hadn’t noticed how well his two friends got along whenever they all hung out. Soonyoung had always been genuinely curious about Wonwoo’s various and sundry interests, even when no one else cared. It had also been easy to see that Wonwoo relished the chaotic energy that Soonyoung brought to any gathering, even when he was pretending to be annoyed. Jihoon was pretty sure the enforced time they had spent together during the stay at home order had only accelerated something that was already in motion.

The only problem is that the pandemic will probably end before one of them does something about it. Jihoon’s best friends are all dumbasses.

“For the love of god, please just tell him you like him. We’re nearly thirty! We should be able to do this by now.”

Usually this is where Soonyoung would protest about the potential for awkwardness if Wonwoo was not interested, before returning to his favorite topics of Wonwoo being cute with his cats, Wonwoo wearing that shirt that shows his collarbones, and Wonwoo, and Wonwoo, and Wonwoo. This time is different. Soonyoung stops chomping on chips and looks straight at Jihoon. “Sure. When you do the same for Jun, big talker.”

Jihoon is literally speechless. 

“Not so easy, huh?”

🎂

By the time Jihoon gets home, Soonyoung has sent him several texts apologizing for being a jerk to him on his birthday. Jihoon calls him back and tells him it’s okay. He means it, too. They’ve been friends for literally twenty years. It would take more than one overly direct remark to shake that. Frankly, Jihoon is usually the one who makes the mistake of offering honesty when sympathy is called for, and Soonyoung has waved it off over and over again. It probably serves him right to get a taste of his own medicine.

Wonwoo calls a little later in the afternoon, though their conversation ends up being brief when he’s distracted by a sneezing kitten. In the evening, Mingyu and Minghao drop off a tiny but beautifully decorated cake. Because Mingyu is Mingyu, he also comes prepared with candles and matches. He insists on singing “Happy Birthday” from the sidewalk, and though Minghao looks terribly embarrassed, he joins in. Jihoon pretends to hate the attention, but it’s really kind of wonderful. He sneaks down his mask just long enough to blow out the candles. He wishes for a vaccine.

He heads to bed when the clock on his phone reads 12:03. His birthday is officially over, and Jun hasn’t texted or called. Bruno is sprawled in the very center of the mattress, leaving Jihoon about eighteen inches on either side of the bed where he can properly stretch out his legs. Jihoon knows from experience that Bruno is pretty much immovable when he’s decided he wants to sleep somewhere. Cats magically seem to double or triple their weight when they don’t want to be moved.

“Figures,” Jihoon says to himself, or maybe to Bruno. He slides under the covers, curls himself around his snoozing cat, and turns out the light.

🍩

On Monday, Jihoon wakes up with the fierce desire to prove—if only to himself—that he’s braver than Soonyoung in matters of the heart. To be honest, he’s long been aware that Jun treats him a little differently. He’s never really acknowledged it to anyone else, and most people don’t dare to bring it up to him. It can be helpful to have a reputation for being prickly.

Only Soonyoung, who has the privileges of a childhood friend and no verbal filter, has asked him about it to his face. Jihoon suspects that Jeonghan sees it, and if Jeonghan knows, Seungcheol does as well. For the most part it is just part of the background of their social circle. Wonwoo, Jun, and Jihoon are best friends, and Jihoon and Soonyoung are best friends, and Jun is a little sweeter to Jihoon than he is to anyone else.

Until this year, Jihoon had always assumed this extra feeling only went one way. It was only when everything normal about their lives had to stop that he had seen all the ways he’d quietly reciprocated that focus over the years. So many nights they’d spent hanging out in each other’s apartments, playing video games or eating delivery or watching movies or just gathering their friends around them. He has also missed all the careless physical affection that was normal for them—squeezing together onto a too-small couch, hanging off each others’ shoulders, being half-suffocated by an exuberant hug. In retrospect, he had pushed away a lot less of it than he thought he did.

(It’s more than a little disconcerting to realize that all your friends probably knew you were a softie before you did.)

He waits until lunchtime to call Jun. He opens with a question about the cats, which always has the magical effect of making Jun relax, and then manages to invite himself over. Everything is going smoothly until Jun opens the door to his condo.

Jihoon rather vividly remembers once hearing a smitten classmate wax poetic over how Jun was even cuter when he was sleepy. Jihoon had rolled his eyes at the time, but the poor girl had a point. A little tiredness softens Jun’s otherwise striking handsomeness, makes him feel approachable to mere mortals. Jihoon has been allowed to see that more often than most, especially in college when Jun sometimes seemed to pull all-nighters for pure shit and giggles.

Today’s exhaustion isn’t cute, or soft, and it might very well be worse than it was on Thursday. Jihoon is immediately certain that Jun’s failure to wish him a happy birthday had nothing to do with still being angry. Jun didn’t text or call because he was so damn tired that he forgot. Jihoon manages to bite back a question about sleep, which will just lead to another fight, but he can’t help asking, “Have you even left the house lately?”

Jun literally stops to think about this answer, as if someone hit the pause button on a video. He eventually says, “I ate outside with you last week.” Jihoon waits. Jun doesn’t offer anything else.

“Then we’re going for a walk.”

Jun looks out at the admittedly miserable weather. “It’s wet!”

“Bring an umbrella!”

They head out without any destination in mind, but it’s enough to be outside. The rain isn’t heavy, but the wind keeps pushing it sideways, and Jun’s umbrella flips inside out twice before Jihoon sees the lights are on at one of his favorite doughnut shops. There’s a customer paying at the window, but there’s no line. “It’s my treat,” Jihoon insists, and then they’re darting across the mostly empty street, jumping over puddles and potholes, and ducking under the scant cover of the shop’s awning. The smell of fried dough is tantalizing even through his damp mask. 

A few minutes later, they’ve found a semi-dry and distanced spot to stuff their still warm doughnuts into their eager mouths. Jun laughs as he bites into some god-awful everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink doughnut that he found on the menu—somehow it contains both lemon cream and pepper jelly. Jihoon is pretty sure his classic maple bar tastes better, but as the sweetness explodes on his tongue, he’s mostly thinking about the delight on Jun’s face.

🥧

Mingyu and Minghao have delivered an entire Thanksgiving meal to them, including the crowning glory of an entire blueberry pie. Jihoon doesn’t remember ever telling Mingyu that blueberry is his favorite, but somehow Mingyu knew, just as he knew what everyone else would most enjoy. 

Jihoon and Jun eat their pie a la mode in the living room as Jun is setting up his laptop for their Friendsgiving Zoom call. It takes a little experimentation to find a reasonable angle, but propping the laptop up on a couple old shoe boxes helps. Jihoon lets Jun figure out the technical details while reflecting on how easy it has been to fall back into old patterns and habits now that they’ve agreed to be a pod. While Jihoon thinks they’re being reasonable and safe, he now has a bit more sympathy for those who have found it so hard to do the right thing this awful year. The loneliness has been unbearable, even with people doing their best to stay connected.

Half an hour later, their Zoom call has descended into bedlam, thanks to Soonyoung’s theatrics, and Jihoon is on the floor, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Seungkwan is pouting that neither Wonwoo or Soonyoung are answering their phones, and Minghao is just knocking back more wine. 

Jihoon manages to drag himself back onto the couch as Jun signs off. 

“That was something else,” Jun says mildly.

“I’ve known Soonyoung Kwon since we were seven,” Jihoon reminds him. “He can still surprise me when he goes full Gemini like that.”

“Did you know he liked Wonwoo?”

Jihoon snorts. “Who do you think has been listening to his pining since summer? They’ll be good for each other. Wonwoo’s always happier when someone is dragging him into their foolery.”

“Is that why he called you out at the end?”

That was indeed a challenge. Jihoon will never admit this to Soonyoung, but he’s grateful, because all he has to do now is let the words he’s had in his head fall out of his mouth. “That was part of it,” Jihoon says. He can do this. “I kept telling him to talk to Wonwoo instead of me. He finally got mad one day and told me that I couldn’t push him anymore if I wouldn’t talk to you.”

Jun blinks, obviously confused. Jihoon just waits, forcing himself to keep breathing. This isn’t a rejection. Gradually, Jun’s expression changes, and when he’s finally looking at Jihoon with understanding, Jihoon adds, “You know I don’t let a lot of people get close, Junnie. But I’ve never regretted letting you in.”

Jun says, in a little more than a whisper, “I think I’ve loved you since we were twenty.” 

It’s one thing to have suspected. It’s another thing entirely to hear it and to feel his heart leap inside his chest at the words. “Can we try this then? And see how it goes?”

Jun nods, and then he smiles, that boxy smile that he doesn’t even know is deadly. Jihoon is alarmed to discover that he’s as susceptible to it as everyone else, but he reminds himself that he’s almost thirty. He can do this.

Kissing his best friend turns out to be awkward, and exhilarating, and impossibly sweet. Jihoon wouldn’t have it any other way.

🌭

They’re taking things slow, unlike Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who apparently went straight from being mere roommates to doing unspeakable things. Romance has not stopped Soonyoung from being an oversharer, so now Jihoon wishes he could bleach his brain. There are a lot of things that he did not need to know about two of his best friends.

Meanwhile, the penny finally drops for Jun a few days after Thanksgiving. They are in Jun’s condo, where Jihoon is watching as Jun cooks sausages on a new machine that he bought on some dubious Black Friday sale. Hotpot the cat is also observing with great interest, hoping something delicious might miraculously fall to the ground.

Jihoon jumps in alarm when Jun suddenly makes a startled noise and nearly drops one of his sausages.

“Are you okay?”

Jun puts his cooking tongs down on the counter. “Jihoonie. It’s the first of December.”

“Yes?” Jihoon tries to remember if there is something he has forgotten. Were they supposed to be somewhere or to be doing something? “It is?”

“Your birthday was last month!”

“Oh, that,” Jihoon says, chuckling at the horrified look on Jun’s face. “You did kind of forget, didn’t you?”

Jun mutters something to himself in Mandarin. Jihoon is pretty sure it’s a curse.

“Junnie, the sausages are going to burn.”

Jun turns off the sausage cooker and then comes around the kitchen island so he can engulf Jihoon in a hug. For someone so skinny, he gives very good hugs. “I’m a terrible boyfriend. I’m so sorry.”

“Technically you weren’t my boyfriend then and you were walking around in a daze at the time because you were up all night feeding the kittens. It’s really okay.” 

Jun kisses him until he’s flushed and breathless. The problem with Junnie, Jihoon thinks, is that it only took him approximately thirty-six hours to get over his shyness. He's been very tactile since then, and it’s honestly been a little overwhelming. It’s probably good that they’re taking things slow. Probably. “We’ll do something special this weekend.”

“Eh, twenty-eighth birthdays are boring. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Your birthday is always a big deal to me,” Jun says firmly, before leaning in for another kiss.

Neither of them notice when Hotpot leaps onto the counter, steals an unattended sausage, and runs away to enjoy her spoils.

**Author's Note:**

> Title once again from [Together](https://youtu.be/sfTEECS0W04), since it’s a song that got me through 2020. 
> 
> I’m so sorry I forgot Jihoon’s birthday in the first fic in this series. I’m really not sure how I managed it, since I spent so much time making sure the timeline worked. I am hoping the returns of Bruno Mars and Hotpot the cats will make up for it.
> 
> The burger emoji did not seem like a good substitute for a breakfast sandwich, so I went with a fried egg. 2020 problems, my friends.
> 
> Mingyu brings Jihoon a [lunchbox cake](https://youtu.be/9Y3V9T_Dh_g). 
> 
> Comments and kudos make my day!
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/intuitionist17).


End file.
